Free Riding the Rap by Elmore Leonard Page B

strawberry, what Harry said he liked, two strawberry-banana, and an orange. He didn’t see any rice pudding, but there were jars of instant tapioca and he took one of them.
    Louis stepped over to the aisle that went directly to the counter, seeing Bobby standing there now and, past him to either side, the Arab-looking grocer and his wife with orange hair. They were watching Bobby doing something.
    Throwing a package aside after taking something out of it, it looked like.
    Raising his hand in the air then as he pulled a yellow rubber glove down over the hand.
    Louis saying, Oh shit, to himself.
    He kept on to the counter, seeing Bobby pulling the other glove on and then reaching for the grocer as the man ducked down behind the counter to come up holding a gun that Bobby right away took by the barrel and twisted and the man screamed something in his language, letting go of the grip. Bobby kept hold of the gun by the barrel, a big chrome revolver he hit the grocer over the head with, swiping the man sidearm, and the man screamed again holding his head, blood coming through his fingers as Louis reached the counter and saw the man sink to his knees. The woman was screaming in her language— had been screaming—and now Bobby reached over to grab her by the hair, got a good hold of it—Louis thinking the orange hair would come off in Bobby’s hand, but it didn’t. It was her hair. Bobby now dragged her up against the counter. The woman tried to push away and Bobby let go of her hair, seeing her hands on the counter and looking at them closely.
    He said, “That’s a pretty ring.” A heavy gold band with some kind of orange-looking stone set in it. He said, “Let’s see you take it off.”
    Looking right at him big-eyed, hair mussed, the woman said, “I don’t speak no English.”
    Which sounded to Louis pretty good if she didn’t. He said to Bobby, “You gonna rob the place then fucking rob it, man, and let’s go.” Hetook a paper sack from the counter and started putting his groceries in it.
    Bobby wasn’t paying any attention to him. He said to the woman, “You won’t take it off?”
    She said it again, “I don’t speak no English.”
    Louis watched Bobby take hold of her hand and pull on the ring to slip it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Louis watched Bobby reach behind him now and take out his pruners with the red handles, holding the woman’s ring finger with the other hand and the woman said, “No, please, please don’t, please.”
    Bobby said, “You learn to speak English in a hurry. That’s pretty good.”
    The woman tried to pull her hand away, crying now, begging Bobby, “Please, please,” but he had a good hold on her finger, getting it in there between the curved blades of the pruners, telling her, “I want your money, too. All you got.”
    Louis picked up the sack of groceries in his arm and turned, expecting to hear the woman scream as he pulled out his shirttail and hurried to wipe off the handle of the grocery cart he’d used. Louis left the store, not looking over at the counter, got in the car, like an oven with the windows closed, turned on the engine, the radio and the air-conditioning up high. After a minute or so he watched Bobby come out of the store counting bills, going through the money quick before folding it over and sticking it in his pants pocket.
    When he was in the car he said, “You think I cut her finger off?”
    â€œNever thought you wouldn’t,” Louis said.
    Â 
    That evening Harry said, “How about some booze? I got a condition that requires two fifths of vodka a day or I become dehydrated and liable to die. I know you don’t want that to happen. If you picked me up to whack me out, you’d have done it by now. So you must have another reason, huh? . . . What do you say? Bottle of Absolut. And a pack of